The Kish'tel
by TeaOli
Summary: Recognizing a kindred spirit, a young Starfleet officer offers to mentor an even younger cadet. But there are two sides to every story, and sometimes misunderstandings are inevitable. Light humor.
1. Easier Said Than Done

Their first meeting was inauspicious.

The mechanism by which Starfleet Academy assigns cadets various courses, while normally organized and efficient, like any system that is reliant on the actions of sentient beings, occasionally experiences irregularities.

Just such an occasion arose when a distinguished visiting scholar who had agreed to teach (among other things) an elective seminar fell victim to Bendii Syndrome and could not fulfill his commitments. The advanced communications cadets — all tracking in languages or linguistics or both — were duly reassigned to the alternate course of their choice. But the lone fourth class cadet _had_ no alternate choice, and so was not as fortunate.

.

.

Upon his return to Earth after a successful mission serving under Captain Christopher Pike, a series of conflicting circumstances left Lieutenant Spock in a quandary. The captain wanted the young half-Vulcan to lead his science department. Starfleet brass wanted the captain in command of their new flagship. The Enterprise was still four years away from completion. Exploratory runs typically lasted five years. Accepting another mission was out of the question.

It was Pike — Spock's mentor and his father figure since his earliest days at the Academy — who persuaded him to take on a temporary (if four years could be called "temporary") role as an instructor in order to avoid another long-term deep-space assignment while they awaited the completion of their new ship.

And while the lieutenant had never so much as tutored anyone before, the first meeting of his first Accelerated Elementary Vulcan class started well.

The students, though predominantly cadets fourth class, were attentive and respectful. Twenty-four appendages held twenty-four styli above twenty-four PADDs as twenty-four sentient beings embarked on their first university-level study of Spock's first language. He knew, because he had spent days carefully scrutinizing the records of the cadets in _all _of his classes, and because some prior knowledge of the language was required for _this_ course in particular, that most had learned basic Federation Vulcan in secondary school or through other, non-academic means.

The twenty-fifth cadet, however, was something of an enigma. A late addition, Nyota Uhura did not have a complete entry in the student database. He had no way of discerning if she understood his lecture, or for that matter, whether or not she could possibly possess a level of maturity — she appeared to be quite a _young_ human — a course such as this required.

He _could_ see, however, that she was not taking notes. As far as he could tell, she was not even paying attention to the lecture. She would have to be dealt with. Soon.

.

.

Cadet Nyota Uhura forced herself not to shift impatiently in her seat. She'd already wasted three minutes deciding there was absolutely nothing interesting about Lieutenant S'chn T'gai Spock. His pointed ears and slashed eyebrows were as Vulcan as they came. His unstudied impassivity didn't even _begin_ to hint at his human ancestry. Not that she'd ever believed _those_ rumors, anyway.

He might be handsome in that famous Greco-Roman statue kind of way — her sister, Upenda, no doubt, would be drooling all over his perfectly-formed body by now — but Nyota hadn't enlisted in Starfleet for the eye candy. She was here because years of wallowing at the bottom had left her with a drive to be the best at anything she tried. And being both a Wakufunzi and an Uhura meant she wasn't satisfied with only trying the easy stuff.

As soon as she'd learned of Doctor Tevek's illness, and her subsequent reassignment, she had made an appointment to see her student advisor.

Commander Barnes was (not exactly coincidentally) an old schoolmate of M'Umbha Uhura bint Wakufunzi's. She had been suitably sympathetic to her friend's daughter's plight , but completely useless nonetheless.

"_I'm afraid I can't help you, Nyota," the Andorian woman informed her. "If only you hadn't left it so _late_…"_

"_But I only just found out!" the girl protested with all the indignation a fifteen-year-old Terran could muster. "If the Academy had allowed me to choose an alternate—"_

_Commander Barnes twitched her antennae sadly. _

"_I _am_ sorry about that. We don't often accept underage cadets and they almost never come in after having been wait-listed… If you'd been accepted during regular admission, well now, then we might have had time to fix this mess. As things stand, you'll have to apply to your instructor for a recommendation to transfer. It's a silly rule — and a waste of time — don't I know it! But that's just the way things sometimes are in a bureaucracy."_

_Uhura silently fumed against the ridiculousness of the system, but hadn't taken her annoyance out on her friendly advisor. If it hadn't been for the Andorian and her human husband, she likely wouldn't even _be_ at Starfleet Academy._

"_Just ask Lieutenant Spock for an evaluation after the first day of class," the advisor advised. "I don't foresee a problem at all."_

Without any choice but to follow that advice, Uhura had arrived early and taken a seat right out in front. She wasn't taking a chance on getting stuck in a class she didn't need for the rest of the semester.

She killed another six minutes figuring out his class really _was_ a waste of her valuable time. And, as Lieutenant Spock droned on about Vulcan grammar and syntax — things she'd learned ages ago! — the cadet let her mind drift back to less frustrating times and forward to what was sure to be an exciting future.

.

.

"Cadet Uhura," he called out in Federation Vulcan as soon as the others began working on the first lesson. She stood, and he continued with, "You are not endeavoring to complete the assignment and I saw that you did not take notes during the lecture."

She looked at him, but said nothing. Perhaps she did not understand?

"Cadet Uhura," he repeated, this time in Standard English. "I said, 'You are—'"

"I understood what you said, Savensu," she interrupted him, using carefully toneless — and flawlessly accented — Federation Vulcan. "I was unaware that you were posing a query."

Several heads around the room snapped up to stare at the cadet, but a quick look from their instructor sent them back to their PADDs.

From most humans, Spock would have suspected arrogance in such a response. He was not certain this was the case with the cadet. Her facility for his language, in spite of her apparent youth, suggested she had spent significant time among his people — most likely while on his planet.

He recalled that his mother had once spoken of an Ambassador Uhura who had served on Vulcan for a number of years. At the time he had not truly paid attention and certainly had not asked any questions about the ambassador; now he wondered if this cadet could be the woman's child. Unless and until he learned otherwise, treating her as if she were a Vulcan-trained student was a reasonable tactic.

"My apologies, Cadet," he said, slipping back into his native tongue. "I wished to know why were you not taking notes as your classmates were doing. Vulcan is not a simple language for humans to acquire later in life and only the most diligent candidates are accepted into the Academy's Advanced Vulcan Program as cadets fourth class."

She tilted her head slightly, as if considering his words. This time, Spock did not doubt that she had understood him, so she could only be, he surmised, assessing the logic of his question and statement. That small movement was confirmation enough of where she had received at least part of her education.

"However," he went on, "as you have adequately demonstrated the reason for your neglect and inattention, I will pose another query. _Why_ are you enrolled in this course?"

"I believe I was mistakenly assigned to this course, sir."

That much was obvious. Lieutenant Spock reminded himself that she was almost certainly accustomed to Vulcan instructors and she wasn't _trying_ to exasperate him.

"When you saw Accelerated Elementary Vulcan on your schedule, did it occur to you to approach your advisor to correct the error?"

"Yes, sir," she said, still in that inexplicably irritating monotone. "Commander Barnes said that I would have to apply directly to you for a transfer."

Spock considered that for a moment, silently railing against bureaucratic inefficiency…

"Cadet," he said abruptly, as a new idea occurred to him. "Where were you educated?"

"I lived on Vulcan until I was nine Terran years old," she replied in what he first thought was the more nuanced _Vuhlkansu yeht_ — literally "correct Vulcan"— his planet's standard language, based on a dialect native to the region surrounding Shi'Kahr. Until she continued and he realized she was speaking the dialect, itself. "All of my official schooling, until that time, was conducted in the schools there. At my mother's insistence, I also received tutoring."

"Which school did you attend?" he asked in the same tongue, impressed that she appeared to have discerned his city of origin from his speech alone. Few Vulcans could do so; the talent was thought to be unheard of in offworlders.

He noticed red flush blooming beneath the brown of her cheeks, and, suddenly suspected he knew the reason for her deviation from Federation Vulcan. None of the other cadets were likely to fully comprehend the language they were using. He wondered if he should have left the question unasked.

"I attended Primary School Number Thirteen until I was six and then transferred into School Number Seven."

Spock quelled the flood of fellow-feeling that threatened to overtake him. For whatever reason, this cadet's parents had enrolled her in Shi'Kahr's largest institution for learning challenged Vulcans rather than send her to the school designated for the children of alien diplomats.

Reverting to Federation Vulcan, he commanded, "Meet me tomorrow during my office hours, Cadet Uhura. You will find them on a document attached to your syllabus."

.

.

"He's V'tosh Ka'tur," she complained to her brother that night. He was sure to be more understanding than their elder sister, she figured.

Upenda was medical student in fact and a scientist at heart. No one in the family knew where she'd gotten the poster-sized holo of Spock, son of Sarek, that she displayed on her dormitory wall, but its existence didn't bode well for Upenda having a sympathetic ear.

Muta, on the other hand, studied languages at the Universal Language Institute in Mombasa. The ten-hour time difference meant he should have been getting ready for his school day as she prepared for bed. Instead, he was playing one of the many instruments he'd crammed into his dormitory.

"No, he's not." He continued strumming his lute as if his baby sister's world wasn't falling apart.

"He mocked me in front of the entire class, kaka," she insisted. "He made me admit to going to Thirteen."

"And I'm sure you told him you were moved up to Seven less than three years later."

Nyota stared mutinously at the comm screen. "That is not the point," she said because she didn't have a point of her own.

"Oh? Then what is, Baby Star?" He launched into a song she didn't recognize. No doubt something he'd learned while goofing off instead of attending study groups.

For want of any better argument, she seized on that. "The Academy expects its cadets to take their education _seriously_. You're not here. You don't understand."

Muta grinned mischievously and played the opening notes of a piece every Uhura was required to learn. "I understand that you are being illogical, dada," he told her. "You could always give up and enroll at the DAV. There are no irrational Vulcans there."

He was right about the Diplomatische Akademie der Vereinigte Föderation der Planeten, located in Vienna. Vulcan diplomats were educated on their homeworld. But that didn't mean that attending the DAV would be smooth sailing.

All three Uhura children had left Vulcan when their mother had been temporarily reassigned to Andoria. Much to the family's surprise, the Andorians weren't nearly as accommodating as the Vulcans had been. Nyota had been forced to attend the planet's only school for offworlders. She had not been well-liked there.

Some of her former classmates intended to follow their parents into the Diplomatic Corps. Some of them were even intelligent enough to get accepted at the DAV.

The Akademie was far too small for "the little cold-blooded Uhura who thinks she better than us, or worse, that she's a Vulcan" not to expect to encounter former adversaries.

There'd be plenty of Wakufunzi cousins — relatives on her mother's side — there, too, but the truth was, she didn't _want _to join the Dip. Corps. She wanted to be out among the stars she was named for.

She still hadn't formulated an appropriate rejoinder when her brother broke into her thoughts, claiming he had would be late for class if he didn't hurry.

"It's not likely that you'll be stuck in his class for long, dada. Give the guy the benefit of the doubt until you're free of him," he said before they ended the communication. "If not for your own peace of mind, do it to make Penda jealous!"

Cadet Uhura had no intention of telling their sister about the ignominious encounter with her idol, but Muta's final words sent her to sleep with much lighter heart, anyway.

* * *

Reference: The chorus for _Easier Said Than Done_, by Morcheeba.

* * *

**A/N:** Videos for and the pertinent lyrics of all the songs illustrating this fic can be found at my livejournal in their respective chapters.

**EDIT:** If you read the original version of this, you'll know these chapters used to be accompanied by the relevant lyirics. Those version still live at lj, but won't return here.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek characters or concepts or any material produced by Morcheeba. I do not profit from writing or referencing.


	2. Shoulder Holster

Uhura was fuming again by the time she made her way to Lieutenant Spock's office the next day. How dared he embarrass her like that in front of her fellow cadets? It had been almost as bad as her first school on Vulcan.

Unlike other Vulcan learning institutions for children, Number Thirteen in Shi'Kahr had teachers interacting with students for all lessons. Unfortunately, that also meant that students were able to interact with each other all day long. She had not been popular amongst her fellow pupils there, either.

Things weren't too bad when she'd first entered the school. She had been three and the only thing the other kids had teased her about was her Terran lack of physical strength. Years had passed before they'd started comparing her to "Ambassador Sarek's half-breed bastard."

Back then, she hadn't believed in the rumors about his lack of emotional control. After the previous morning's class, though, she regretted ever having stepped up to defend his honor.

"Over-grown elf!" she muttered aloud. Before she knew it, she'd stormed right past his closed office door.

Uhura took a deep breath and fell inside herself until she felt anger and annoyance draining away. Then, schooling her face into a passable facsimile of Vulcan decorum, she went back the way she'd come and rang the chime.

.

.

The problem quickly became clear once Lieutenant Spock found an opportunity to investigate.

The scheduling apparatus, designed to choose for cadets who had been remiss in making choices for themselves, had taken the "Introduction" and the "Vulcan" from the title of the elective seminar, correlated that with Cadet Uhura's status as a first-year and determined that "Elementary Vulcan" was a suitable alternative. It would have been, in the absence of the cadet's extenuating circumstances, an entirely logical conclusion.

"Why did Commander Barnes require that _I _approve your course change?" he asked as he called up the unofficial history her advisor had sent. "Even when the scheduling program malfunctions, making changes is usually a simple matter, easily handled by academic advisors."

"It is simple for those who have completed the prerequisites of their chosen alternates," she countered.

"What was your chosen alternate?"

"I had none."

Spock started to wonder if he had misjudged the young woman. Perhaps she _hadn't _beenmisplaced while attending the remedial school on Vulcan. Or, perhaps — another flare of irritation accompanied the thought — she was attempting to exasperate him. She wouldn't be the first person from his homeworld to attempt eliciting an emotional response from him.

He looked up from her student history and asked a reasonable question. "Why did you not choose an alternate course as is usually required for seminars taught by visiting faculty?"

"I was only allowed into Doctor Tevek's seminar on his recommendation," she told him. "As I had not fulfilled the prerequisites for any of the other courses I might have chosen, I chose none."

"That was unwise," Spock stated baldly. _And illustrative of the way the Academy handled those unfamiliar with the Terran education system_, he thought bitterly.

Unsurprisingly, the cadet remained resolutely closed-mouthed, and the lieutenant went back to perusing her records and comparing it to the Academy class catalogue.

Four point seven minutes later, Spock looked up to observe his still-silent student. She sat as immobile as she was quiet. Her back was straight and her dark eyes, framed by partially lowered lashes, did not blink.

"Cadet," he said at last, "while specialized language courses are readily available at the Diplomatische Akademie der Vereinigte Föderation der Planeten, such classes are seldom taught here. Starfleet Academy currently offers no courses in Vulcan suited to your current needs and abilities."

"I am aware of that, Savensu," was all she said, but Spock didn't miss the tremor in her voice. The sense that she was a kindred spirit emerged again. This time, he let it wash over him.

At one time he had been in a position similar to hers: newly arrived on a strange planet where many expected him to feel at home. It was only logical that he be the one to assist her.

"If you wish to continue your studies of High Vulcan, I can be of some assistance," he told her. "While I cannot arrange for you to take a course at the DAV, I believe I can convince the Dean of Xenolinguistics and Commander Barnes to allow you to act as my teaching assistant for this class. Your course load is not unduly heavy and your duties for me would be light. In exchange, I am willing to tutor you during whatever time you have not committed to your required studies."

She did not answer right away, instead tilting her head in a manner that indicated she was taking time to carefully consider his offer. It was, he decided, a point in the cadet's favor that she should possible merits of the arrangement against her ability to complete the duties it would require. After one point seven minutes had passed, however, she straightened again, nodded once and said, "That would be agreeable, Savensu."

They were fortunate in that no students from any of his other classes arrived to take advantage of his scheduled office hours — although he hoped this would not prove to be a sign of their lack of commitment — and were able to spend the next fifty-three minutes devising the particulars of her assistantship and tutorial, and then choosing and procuring the texts he thought would best suit the method of instruction. Long before Cadet Uhura slid her PADD into her satchel and stood in preparation to take her leave, Spock was satisfied that she would, in spite of her youth, not only be a competent assistant, but also an assiduously dedicated student.

At the end of the session, he reached out to shake her hand at the same moment she raised it in the ta'al. He kept his own hand extended, eschewing the standard Vulcan gesture. After only four seconds' hesitation, her brow furrowed and she placed her small hand in hiss.

_Yes,_ he told himself once the cadet had gone to her next class, _it is only logical that I assist my assistant in reaching a better understanding reaching a better understanding of how her people are expected to conduct themselves_.

Never having ascribed to the notion that one should in hesitate to take action once a firm decision had been made, immediately after his evening meditation, Spock sent a request to Cadet Uhura's advisor. Needless to say, he rarely made a final determination without carefully weighing the pros, cons and innumerable possible outcomes of his choice. With that kind of assured confidence guiding him, he arranged to meet with Commander Barnes as soon as they were both free. It was most fortunate that her reply message indicated her availability in the early morning of the second day of classes.

.

.

When she agreed to see Lieutenant Spock, Tala Barnes fully expected to hear the instructor's version of what Nyota Uhura had described as a disastrous and humiliating first meeting. She thought he would take issue with his erstwhile student's irritating habit of disguising deliberate reticence as Vulcan decorum. And while she accepted that she would have to acknowledge that the girl was both headstrong and unusually ambitious, Tala was prepared to defend her young charge.

Finding that she wouldn't get a chance to do either — that neither was _necessary_ — was… disconcerting. So her lapse in protocol, not to mention good manners, was somewhat understandable. That's what she told herself later, anyway.

At first, she could only stare, utterly speechless, at the Vulcan sitting across her. Clearly, something was terribly wrong.

"Forgive me if my question is unpardonably intrusive, Lieutenant, but when was the last time you meditated?" she asked when she finally found her voice.

Spock's quizzical head-tilt seemed normal enough, but…

"This morning, Commander. Why do you ask?"

Tala twitched her antennae, seeking out the changes in air pressure and [blank] that would suggest the young man wasn't as in control of his emotions as a properly brought up Vulcan should be. Nothing. He was breathing perfectly normally. There was only the usual temperature to be expected when a Vulcan was sitting in an enclosed space.

Internally, she borrowed a phrase from her husband, Frank: _What the _hell_ could he be thinking?_ Aloud she said, "You just told me you wish to be Cadet Uhura's mentor. You made this decision after meeting her only once. And after refusing, prior to today, to take on protégées throughout your Starfleet career."

Spock continued to stare at her — not impolitely — but still without speaking. _That's right,_ she reminded herself, _Vulcan._

"Lieutenant," Barnes began again, "_why_ are you asking to take over as the cadet's advisor?"

_That_, at least, caused a tiny fissure in the mask. He straightened his neck as a look of comprehension reordered his features.

His actual words had been, "I would like to, as the Terran saying goes, 'take her under my wing' and ensure she does not encounter the same difficulties I did." But Tala — linguist though she was — wasn't one to quibble over words in strange situations.

Apparently, the lieutenant was.

"I have no desire to usurp your role in Cadet Uhura's academic career," he told her. "I merely hope to afford her with insights only a fellow offworlder who came to this planet as an adolescent can provide."

The commander's antennae twitched again, just in case she'd missed something the first go round.

"Lieutenant," she said after getting the same results, "you _do_ realize Cadet Uhura is essentially a _Terran_ human? Although she was born offworld, her parents are from here."

"Of course I do," he said and for a moment, she feared he wasn't going to elaborate. That this interview would stretch on and on as she was forced to apply direct inquiry after direct inquiry just to get the Vulcan to start making some semblance of sense. But Spock must have recognized her growing frustration because after only a few seconds of silence he added, "However, as she spent the majority of her childhood on Vulcan, and the balance on Andoria, it stands to reason that her knowledge of Terran social practices might be limited to what she was able to glean from members of the Diplomatic Corps and from the seven visits to Earth she made over the course of that time."

Tala was speechless again. She'd known Nyota Uhura since she was babe in M'Umbha Uhura's very efficient arms. The young woman was anything but poorly socialized — in most aspects.

"Well, it's true she hasn't had much opportunity to spend time with many humans close to her own age," she found herself telling him. No need to point out that Upenda and Muta Uhura had been more than enough of an introduction to normal behavior in human teenagers. The exploits Nyota's older siblings had gotten away with had made them minor legends among members of the Diplomatic Corps.

Still, if this Vulcan thought _he_ could further the girl's education... Commander Barnes shook her head at the thought.

"Lieutenant, are you suggesting that _you_ are capable of helping Cadet Uhura learn to 'fit in' at the Academy."

"I am not merely suggesting, Commander. I am confident that under my tutelage, the cadet can avoid many of the pitfalls that made my own acclimation… difficult." He held her skeptical gaze for a long time before adding, "While I do not completely understand the nature of human emotion, I _do_ know that refusing to acknowledge hers could be detrimental to Cadet Uhura. I shall endeavor to help her avoid such a fate."

_Then again…_ Tala made an executive decision. One she was certain her friend's (at times pigheaded) daughter would thank her for. Some day.

"I think that is an excellent idea, Lieutenant Spock," she said. "I'll get started on the paperwork straight away."

.

.

"He wants to _what_? Why would he want to do that?"

The Andorian adopted what Uhura privately thought of as her "forced patience" face. She'd been the object of the expression often enough to realize she was in for a lecture. Straightening in her seat, she braced herself for it.

"Cadet Uhura…"

The formal address was telling. _I'm in for it now_, Uhura realized, and resigned herself to her fate.

"Lieutenant Spock is one of the Academy's most distinguished graduates," the commander continued. "Like you, he entered at an early age — seventeen in his case — and in less than three years, he completed four degrees.

"Since then, in spite of the encouragement of his superior officers, as well as certain persons rather highly situated in Command, he has _never_ taken on a protégée." She leaned back in her back in her chair, allowing her stern face to fall into a full frown. "Apparently, something about you and your record made him decide that _you_ are worthy of the position. Most cadets would be honored to be given this chance."

Uhura had known Tala Barnes her whole life. Her advisor was one of the few beings in the universe with whom she felt comfortable letting down her guard. A fact that didn't always server her well.

"Most cadets probably have not been the victims of his mocking," she retorted obstinately.

Tala's antennae twitched. "Oh?" she asked.

_Damn_. Realizing she'd gone too far, Uhura quickly searched for a way to appease her advisor. There really wasn't one, she decided. Other than the raw, emotional truth. As much as the idea appalled her, she knew there was no other option.

"He was laughing at me, Tal—Commander," Uhura stated firmly, though she was staring down at her feet. They didn't quite reach the floor. Her shoulders slumped as she deflated. "It's just like they used to say at school. He cannot control his emotions and he mocked _me_ for _my_ deficiencies."

Tala sighed. She knew what it must have cost Nyota to admit to the hurt feelings. She knew the girl would just as soon not admit to having feelings at all. The mentorship with the half-Vulcan was sounding better every second. It should prove to be something of an eye-opener for both the cadet and the lieutenant.

Still, she had to be sure. She owed M'Umbha — she owed _Nyota_ — that much, at least.

"On what are you basing that assertion, Cadet?" She knew she'd come off sounding gruff and official, but reminded herself it was all for her young friend's benefit.

Looking up, Uhura steeled her spine again. "I could _tell_, Commander. He asked me about Thirteen and—"

"Ny_o_ta." Tala's voice was considerably softer as she cut her off, but Uhura wasn't taking any chances.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Did Lieutenant Spock ask you about School Thirteen specifically, or did you tell him about it?"

.

For a moment, Nyota looked confused. Tala relaxed. It wasn't an expression that often crossed the young woman's face.

"I told him," she admitted eventually. "But I am certain he must have known. It felt like…" She blushed as she forced herself to forge on. "It felt like he already _knew_ me, Tally."

Commander Barnes leaned forward again and smiled. _Yes_, she thought, _the Vulcan is _exactly_ what Ennie needs right now._

But when she spoke aloud, she addressed a student, and not a family friend. "Apparently, the lieutenant is of a similar opinion," she said. "He does not, however, view the connection with the same negative connotation you have attached to it."

Nyota slumped again, her petit frame looking even smaller than usual. Tala decided a little relenting wouldn't be undue.

"Give him a chance, Ennie," she cajoled. "He just wants to help. Why don't you look at it this way: he's a scientist, and you are an enigma he wants to study."

"You mean I'm an anomaly he wants to repair." Nyota's tone had become petulant again, but Tala could see her analogy had piqued the girl's interest.

"Will you accept his mentorship?"

The cadet sucked in a deep breath and straightened her back. "I suppose I should at least give him the benefit of the doubt," she conceded.

Tala hid another smile.

* * *

Reference: The second verse to Morcheeba's _Shoulder Holster._

* * *

Please note, I'm only posting this chapter so soon because it's already up at lj. The rest will come in weekly posts in order to comply with the rules of one of my comms.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek characters or concepts or any material produced by Morcheeba. I do not profit from writing or quoting.


	3. Never An Easy Way

Cadet Uhura was, Spock concluded, something of a rebel. It was part of her essential nature, he suspected, and therefore went deeper than simply a pubertal desire to be recognized as one's own master. She merely chose not to demonstrate her disregard for accepted standards in a manner that was readily apparent. Even the citizens of the planet on which she was born had to work at suppressing their natures. She appeared to relish the challenge of achieving a similar state of serenity without the tools her former peers possessed.

In many ways, it must have been easy for the girl. If she was possessed of any intrinsic inclination towards defiance for the sake of it, life on Vulcan must have taught her to overcome before such a tendency had a chance to really ferment. Nevertheless, she challenged him during their very first meeting as mentor and protégée.

"Savensu, how do you, who are only half-human, and who has chosen to live life as Vulcan, expect to successfully instruct me on how to live as a human adolescent?"

"The fact that I choose to abide by the teachings of Surak does not render me incapable of observing the behaviors of the majority of those who surround me."

"But do you understand the reasons for those behaviors?" she asked, clearly determined not cede her point yet. "Are you _capable_ of comprehending them?"

He dipped his head in acknowledgment. "I admit that I do not always understand the underlying drives that lead to the choices humans make, as I have not experienced those drives myself. However, soon after my arrival at the Academy, a person whose past also forced her to straddle the line between logic and emotion offered me an opportunity similar to that which I have offered you."

"Commander Paraklis is a human and an Illyrian. The people of her colony world chose many generations ago to eschew emotionalism in order to advance themselves intellectually, not to quell violent tendencies. Their motives, and their methods, are not the same as those of your people."

In spite of the somewhat antagonistic nature of her line of inquiry, he was impressed — but not surprised — at her detective skills.

"No. The Illyrian's motivation was, I suspect, much closer to your purpose," he told her. "Still, the time I spent with Captain Pike's first officer was no less enlightening for its brevity. Although I ultimately decided to continue to follow the path of my father's people, this was not always the case. I appreciate the knowledge I gained while I explored other options."

"Enlightening, Savensu?" If she was surprised at his allusion to his wilder days, she did not show it. But he could plainly see, as she leaned forward slightly, that curiosity over what he could possibly have learned from those experiences evident in her dark eyes.

"Yes. I discovered that while on Vulcan I had been seen as overly human, on Earth I was considered entirely Vulcan, and therefore stood out when I pursued many of the pastimes of my peers.

"That is understandable. As I was most familiar with Vulcan culture during my formative years, I was unprepared — in spite of my mentor's advice — for some of the situations in which I found myself. Often, I didn't not act or _re_act within normative parameters. After a Terran year, I came to the conclusion that that is which my essential nature is most suited for living as a Vulcan."

"Your logic is flawed," she riposted. "If your 'essential nature' was most suited to Vulcanity, would not your time on your homeworld have been less… stressful?"

"Even Vulcans are not perfect in their pursuit of logic, Cadet. Prejudice _does_ exist. In spite of our attempts to adhere to the tenet of the IDIC, it is not surprising that a singular, dual creature such as myself might create a hurdle which other Vulcans found difficult to overcome."

"Have you considered, Savensu, the possibility that it was your essential nature, rather than your singular duality, which both Vulcans and humans found difficult to accept?" she asked, her face and voice more earnest than would be considered appropriate coming from a Vulcan her age. "You have just rationalized their abuse of you. In my experience among both species, acceptance of such mistreatment directed at oneself inspires repugnance in others."

Her words were like a knife cutting into his hard-won sense of self.

"Understanding does not equate acceptance," he said softly. Because snarling the words like he wanted to would only have proven the rumors she'd no doubt heard growing up on Vulcan.

Spock watched as she silently considered his final statement. After two point zero seven minutes had passed, she nodded.

"You are correct, Savensu," she acknowledged, toneless once again. "I apologize for overstepping myself and speaking out of turn."

"If you intended no offense, Cadet," although he believed she certainly _did_ "no apology is necessary."

Caught, she couldn't keep her eyes from widening. "I am sorry, sir," she murmured in Standard. "It seems I still have a great deal to learn."

"If I believed you were not equal to the task, Cadet, I would not have asked to be your guide."

* * *

Spock eased himself into the chair across from Christopher Pike. His other former mentor looked up from the menu he'd been perusing and smiled smugly.

"How's the mentoring coming along?" Pike asked genially, but Spock suspected he was being teased. "Have you figured out anything new about Earth teenagers?"

"The purpose of my mentorship was to _teach_ Cadet Uhura about human adolescence," Spock reminded him. "However, I have come to the conclusion that groups advocating for voluntary sterilization would be a great deal more successful if they were to recruit Cadet Uhura to serve as an example of what could be."

Pike's laughter erupted from deep in his chest. "I take it this experiment has been a failure, then?"

"On the contrary, Captain," the lieutenant told him. "The only failure lies in this society's lack of acceptance of diverse expressions of human nature."

"What do you mean?" Pike closed the menu with slow, deliberate motions and placed it on the table, watching Spock expectantly.

"Cadet Uhura is fifteen years old. At this time, her prefrontal cortex is still developing and her entire brain is undergoing rapid changes in structure. Added to that, her body is being assaulted by equally frequent hormonal releases.

"And yet, she possesses both an acute intelligence and a Vulcan education which tell her that whatever impulses are engendered by normal human development are unacceptable, and so she fights those impulses. At the same time, Terran humans expect her to behave in a certain way, and find her reluctance to bow to her nature strange." He paused for a moment, cocking his head in thought. "She would have been better served had she chosen to continue her education among those with a greater understanding of conflicting influences."

The captain caught on quick. "You're thinking of our dear Number One."

"Cadet Uhura made the comparison, herself. Their circumstances, she pointed out, 'are not the same.'"

"Maybe she's got a point," Pike said, smiling at the idea. "But then again, she sure sounds a lot like Hrista. So maybe not."

"I am inclined to think _not_, Captain," Spock agreed. "In many ways, the two are not so different at all."

"And the teaching? How's that going?"

There was a long moment of silence before Spock spoke.

"Cadet Uhura is intelligent, ambitious and tenacious," he said. "She has shown an interest in gaining knowledge not only for its practical application, but also for the purpose of satisfying her own curiosity. I believe that her progression had exceeded my expectations due to, in part, this eagerness to _know_. We have adjusted the curriculum for her tutorial twice."

Whistling softly at the news, Christopher turned and caught the eye of a server. While he waited for the woman to come take their orders, he thought about what he'd just heard. Spock wasn't easily impressed by anyone — something that had concerned the captain when his young friend first accepted an instructor's position. Maybe working with this girl would make him more tolerant of other students.

If it didn't have the opposite effect. He noticed that Spock hadn't exactly answered either question. But his friend felt more comfortable talking about Cadet Uhura's learning than his teaching, Chris wasn't going to push him just yet. At least Spock was talking.

"What about the TAing?" Pike prompted Spock once the server took note of their selections and left. "Are the other students… accepting of her changed position?"

"Accepting, Christopher?" Spock's lips thinned. "In some instances, the cadet has proven to be rather… challenging. While she has certainly been a help to me, I believe her ability to assist her fellow cadets can only benefit from my mentorship."

.

.

"So, tell me, what's he _really _like?" Upenda scooted forward until her nose was nearly touching the screen. She could tell her little sister wanted to roll her eyes at what she'd see as a ridiculous display, but somehow Nyota managed to hold on to the impassive mask she'd adopted ages ago.

"I have learned much from him. The curriculum we have developed integrates well with the methods Doctor Tevek instructed my former tutor to use. We both underestimated my capacity to learn, however. Lieutenant Spock had to accelerate my scheduled lessons."

Upenda _did_ roll her eyes "Enough about you, Ennie. Now, tell me about _him!_"

"He is unusually intelligent."

"I know _that_ much, dada!" Upenda said, deciding not to roll her eyes again. But seriously, her little sister could be so obtuse when she chose. "I meant, what can you tell me about his personality?"

"He is surprisingly perceptive, although his deductions are not always accurate."

The older woman huffed out an impatient breath. _Really! Sometimes the child was so infuriatingly literal_.

"Baby Star…" she said warningly. Fortunately, that was all that was needed.

"By the second or third day — perhaps even as soon the first — he'd guessed how the other children treated me after I was transferred from Thirteen," Nyota told her. "But while he believes my method of dealing with their scorn was useful while we lived on Vulcan, he says it is might detrimental to my comfort here. He says I should more fully examine my emotional side before I choose to embrace a life of logic. He suggested I meet with one of _his_ first mentors — an Illyrian — to expand my knowledge and repertoire of techniques."

"That doesn't sound very much like v'tosh ka'tur to me."

Nyota blinked. "I no longer believe him to be v'tosh ka'tur."

"Well, that's a relief!" Upenda laughed and sat back again. "If he's not v'tosh ka'tur, then he isn't be out to get you, either. Is he?"

"You're right, I guess," her sister grudgingly admitted.

"I'm always right, Ennie."

X*X*X*X*X*X

Tala Barnes was also right, as it turned out. Because, against all logic, Lieutenant Spock _was_ the perfect mentor for the young cadet. And though it clearly galled the girl to admit it — even to herself, the commander suspected — Nyota Uhura's adjustment to life on Earth was made much smoother because of his intervention.

He told her things she already knew. But, as he often reminded her, _knowing_ something was not the same as _utilizing_ the knowledge.

"Make eye contact when speaking to someone," he advised, "but do not stare. Be certain to blink regularly. You are unlikely to miss anything important, and humans are unnerved by such steady gazes."

Tala bit back a smile brought on as much by the nature of Lieutenant Spock's advice as by Nyota's startlingly realistic imitation of the half-Vulcan's mannerisms and lack of inflection.

She thought back to the day the young officer had sat in her office, pleading his case for taking Nyota under his wing.

"_While I do not completely understand the nature of human emotion, I _do_ know that refusing to acknowledge hers could be detrimental to Cadet Uhura."_

He'd spoken with an earnestness Tala thought generally absent in those of his race. She attributed it to his human mother and hoped she was making the right decision in convincing Nyota to give him a chance. It was gratifying — a relief, really — to see how well the mentorship was working out.

"He didn't come up with all of this on his own, you know," Nyota told her, still clinging to her feigned distrust of Spock in spite of the fact that she talked more about her meetings with him than she did about her classes. "Captain Pike's number one was his mentor when he first got here. She taught him pretty much everything he knows."

Tala smiled at that. She'd met Hrista Edin Paraklis once. "Well then, I should think he's uniquely suited to showing you the ropes."

"I think Commander Paraklis would be even _better_ suited to serving in that capacity."

"Number One isn't at the Academy," she pointed out, shaking her head. "She's not even on the _planet_. And… she hasn't offered."

* * *

It wasn't working. Halfway through the second term, enough time had passed for everyone to agree on that. Not that she should have been surprised. She'd _told_ Tala this was a bad idea. The whole situation had been ridiculous from the start! How and why she'd allowed herself to be lulled into a sense of security was beyond her. If only Doctor Tevek hadn't—

Uhura snapped off the thought, unwilling to let her mind travel in directions she wasn't ready to face. Falling into herself, she focused on steadying her breathing and reducing her heart rate. Even if things played out the way she expected, there was no reason for her to be anything but serene as she received her verdict.

Equilibrium reestablished, she reached forward to sound her mentor's chime, ready to learn her fate.

.

Spock looked up from his notes as the cadet entered his office. Much as she had done during their very first appointment, she walked determinedly, her back straight, face devoid of expression. He wondered what she was hiding this time.

"Please sit," he said, and she complied without hesitation. He nearly nodded in approval. Her kneejerk defiance, at least, seemed to have eased since he'd undertaken her acclimation.

Unfortunately, he had been less successful in other areas of her adaptation. As that was the point of this meeting, he got straight to the point.

"It was my hope," Spock told her, "that by working as my teaching assistant, you would have more opportunity to fine-tune your understanding of social interactions. While you seem to work well with the four of the cadets enrolled in Accelerated Elementary Vulcan who are not members of your species, the humans in the course find you to be unapproachable."

Because he was watching closely, he did not fail to observe her visibly swallow at his declaration. _Was that _fear_?_ he wondered. If so, it might work to her advantage.

"That is a very real problem, Cadet," he continued. "An instructor's assistant should be able to guide her fellows, to answer the simpler questions so that an instructor may deal with those having more serious difficulties. Several of my students appear to be more comfortable coming to me, than approaching you."

She swallowed again, leaving him in no doubt that she was afraid.

"However," he said, "I must take part of the blame for your lack of social skills. It was my intention to introduce you to other opportunities to improve them and I neglected to do so. I shall endeavor to rectify that in the coming weeks. In the meantime, I have a proposition for you. Your progress in our private tutorial certainly warrants it, and if you successfully improve your interactions with your former classmates, I might be able to spare you to take advantage of it."

The cadet leaned forward slightly, ready to hear how she _might_ be rewarded for doing a better job.

.

.

Two weeks into the third term, Upenda Uhura received a call from her little sister.

"I'll be in Vienna next month, dada. Think you can put me up for a day or two?"

Penda stared at the younger girl's face on the comm screen. The calm expression didn't fool her for a second. Ennie had been much less uptight of late.

"I don't know, dada," she said, careful to keep her own delight from showing. "You know I started practicals this term. Is it for anything important?"

"Lieutenant Spock arranged for me to take the DAV Intermediate High Vulcan exam!" Ennie shrieked. She stood up and danced in place, her excitement bubbling over. "He says I'll definitely be ready by then."

Penda wasn't sure how she kept the smile off her face, but she managed to remain looking both regretful and serious.

"Wow," she said, unenthusiastically. "That's great, En."

Nyota stopped dancing and sank back into the chair at her desk.

"Oh," she said. "Well, uh, if you're going to be too busy I— I completely understand. I mean, it must be really stressful. Surgery and sticking patients with hypos and everything. It'll probably be better if I stay in a hotel or dorm or something anyway. Spock said Starfleet could arrange accommodations."

Unable to torture the kid any longer, Upenda grinned wildly. "Don't be an idiot, Ennie! Of _course_ you can stay with me. And you will _blaze_ that exam, Baby Star."

Ennie smiled back, suddenly shy. "I hope so."

"Listen to me, Nyota Wangari Uhura bint Wakufunzi! You. Will. Blaze! You'll show them you're a true daughter of Wakufunzi."

Nyota's answering smile matched her sister's. "You're right," she said. "I will."

Upenda winked. "I'm always right, dada."

* * *

Reference: The chorus and second verse of _Never An Easy Way_, by Morcheeba.

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek characters or concepts or any material produced by Morcheeba. I do not profit from writing.


	4. Be Yourself

She really should have expected them both to be there when she arrived. That she didn't had less to do with any deviation from normal Uhura behavior than with lack of forethought. Still, Muta and Upenda both knew that Ennie was about as likely to admit that as she likely to sprout wings and start flying around Penda's little student flat. They had to settle for sprawling on Penda's narrow bed pretending to listen sympathetically as, in the time-honored tradition of teen-aged humans across the galaxy, the youngest child of Benjamin and M'Umbha Uhura blamed her troubles on someone who by virtue of being absent couldn't defend himself.

"…obviously sent me here so that I would fail and humiliate myself," she declared from her perch on a desk chair rolled close to the bed.

"Well, technically you didn't _fail_, Baby Star," Muta pointed out. "Since you were supposed to take the _Intermediate_ exam, scoring thirty-four percent on the _Advanced_ exam isn't really—" A sharp elbow in his ribs abruptly ended that line of reasoning and he belatedly recalled that he and Penda had an agreement not to make any attempts at soothing Ennie's bruised ego. Watching her complain her way out of her pseudo-Vulcan calm was too much fun.

Predictably, Nyota immediately launched into another long list of the lieutenant's transgressions. It was all they could do to express their delight solely through nudges and meaningful glances their sister failed to notice. Eventually pausing in listing her mentor's drawbacks, she huffed out another breath slumped back against Upenda's desk.

"He also says I should experience one-on-one social outings with other humans of the gender and sexual orientation compatible with mine."

Two pairs of eyebrows flew up. "He wants you to try _dating_?"

"I believe that is what I just said, Pen."

Muta's hands curled into fists, but a quick glare from his elder sister kept his from sharing his opinion.

Upenda ignored Nyota's slip back into the veneer of cool detachment. "And this is a problem, why?" she asked, rather than giving in to the impulse to laugh at her baby sister's air of affronted dignity.

"Do you not find it insulting that he believes I need to find a man in order to 'cure my lack of humanity'? On Earth, such anti-feminist thinking has been considered degrading for over a century."

Nyota hadn't actually curled her fingers into quotation marks, but the (undoubtedly unintended) inflection in her voice had the same effect. Upenda had to swallow as another bubble of laughter ran for freedom. Muta wondered what the hell was so funny.

"Ennie," Penda said, forcing herself to sound patient, if somewhat maternal, "I don't think that was what he was implying—"

"How the hell would _you_ know?" Nyota cut in, all vestiges of serenity were squashed under the weight of fiery Wakufunzi righteous anger. "You weren't there to hear his superior Vulcan intonation and—"

And something clicked in his brain, making Muta speak before Upenda could stop him. "Are you jealous because Spock didn't suggest you go out on a date with _him_?"

It was becoming seriously difficult to hold back the laughter while watching En's mouth open and close like a fish's. When it didn't seem like it was going to stop any time soon, Upenda leaned forward and plucked the younger girl between her eyes.

Nyota jumped, propelling the chair back until she banged her back against the desk. She let out a pained yelp then gave her best imitation of the patented Penda-glare. Muta thought she did a pretty good job of it.

"That's disgusting!" she managed at last. "He's— he's too old! Besides, he has a girlfriend."

"He has a _what_?" For the second time that evening, Penda displayed her shock and had the dissatisfaction of seeing a smug little expression spread over her little dada's face.

Muta cupped a hand over his mouth to cover a chuckle.

"And she's a _human_," Ennie added smugly, just for the added scandal, her sister suspected.

"Never mind the girlfriend," Upenda said, refusing to be distracted. "What was the reason he gave for the dating thing."

Sighing, Nyota slumped forward again, propping her elbows on her knees. "He said it will help me learn to be more adaptable in a greater variety of social situations."

Upenda exchanged glanced with Muta again. Both nodded. "It will," he said. What else did he say? Did he give you any pointers?"

"Aside from suggesting that I increase my martial arts lessons?" At that, Muta nodded again, approving, while Upenda made "get on with it" gestures. Nyota sighed and continued. "He told me to treat each date as if I were making a sociolinguistic survey. I should watch for style shifting, take note of register, observe body language and analyze the differentiation in the lects."

"Goodness, En!" Upenda shook her head. "Does he want you to meet boys or conduct a study on audience design?"

"A little of both, I gather," Ennie replied, obviously taking the question far more literally that it had been intended. "But looking at it that way does make the idea a little less daunting. I just wish he'd told me what to actually _do_ on a date."

Upenda grinned. "Don't worry. Your dada and kaka can help you with _that_ part!"

Wisely, Muta didn't protest.

.

.

Spock studied the cadet's dossier, searching for an indication as to why he had been chosen. The profile included personal information as well as academic records. Her impending escort was intelligent certainly, and he was also young. However, the list of his hobbies and interests offered no insight about his appeal.

"He is a little less than two years younger than me and enamored of math. In all likelihood, he is even more poorly socialized than you think _I_ am," Cadet Uhura clarified when Spock abandoned his futile search for the ease of direct query. "So it is also likely that he will be more disposed to overlook any gaffes I might commit than someone with more informed discernment might be."

He allowed a raised eyebrow to convey his disapproval. When that small gesture proved deficient, Spock decided a more direct approach was again necessary.

"Is your assessment based solely on conjecture derived from impressions of those in his age group and field of study that are stereotypical in nature?" he asked. "Have you never observed him in a social setting?"

Cadet Uhura bit her lip. It was a relatively new habit of hers. In the first months of their relationship, she had approached every challenge he presented as if her success was a foregone conclusion. Now that the tasks he set before her went beyond the scope of her knowledge and experience she had gained as the daughter of a diplomat and the younger sibling of two very popular human adolescents, she was less convinced of her facility to overcome any and all obstacles.

"No," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders — another recently acquired habit — and relieved him of the PADD with the cadet's credentials. "But he wants to take me ice-dancing. That is hardly an activity popular among our peers. Surely it isn't overreaching to assume that a young man with such a keen interest in something that generally only appeals to persons from our great-grandparents' time might not judge _me_ using the same criteria as a person whose interests were more in line with the norm?"

Spock was surprised by a quickly suppressed impulse to point out that the youth in question, at fourteen Terran years of age, could no more be termed "a man" in human terms than Cadet Uhura could be called "a woman." Instead of speaking his mind about what was in the end an irrelevant matter, he said only, "You do not enjoy engaging in cold-weather activities."

The cadet shrugged again, saying, "Have you not frequently encouraged me to 'expand my horizons' by trying new things?"

He was forced to concede her point as the entire nature of the mentorship was aimed at encouraging Cadet Uhura to "try new things." Spock made a mental note to introduce her to the young helmsman-in-training at a later time. Hikaru Sulu, already an accomplished pilot and a PhD candidate in the Astrophysics program, would no doubt be a welcome alternative after a disastrous date with the even younger cadet.

.

.

"So… wow, first date, huh?" Christopher Pike tried in vain to hide just how much he wanted to laugh at his protégé's discomfort. It was only fair that Spock should have to go through a little bit of what Chris himself had endured. Too bad the kid didn't have a Number One to make things easier on him. "How'd you convince her to give that a try? Thought you said she was all about academics."

"She has opted for an engagement with a cadet whose academic ambitions appear to match her own," Spock said, looking and sounding even stiffer than what passed as normal for him.

_Wonder what _that's _about._ Chris wondered. Aloud he said, "Really?" Leaning back in his comfortable chair, he fought off a niggle of surprise and a healthy does of confusion. "But you don't approve?"

Spock didn't bat a lash.

"He is not my first choice for Cadet Uhura," he admitted, staring blankly at some point over and beyond the comm screen.

Chris couldn't stop the grin from spreading this time.

"You know, son," he said, shaking his head, "it's not unusual for a mentor to develop a sort of… fatherly instinct when it comes to their cadets." Spock opened his mouth — probably to protest — but Pike waved the other man into silence. "It's not unusual, but it can be a little tricky when you're dealing with kids as young as Cadet Uhura. She's right about that age when they want to get out from under their dads' thumbs, you know? Not have to deal with another dad on top of it. It's perfectly normal to be rebellious at her age. Maybe you need to back off on this one and just be hap— satisfied that she's taking your advice at all."

Spock opened his mouth again before closing it so resolutely, Pike just knew he was recalling having shared his earlier assessment of the cadet's personality.

"I will consider your suggestion at a later time, Captain," the lieutenant promised. "If you will excuse, I must go now or I will be late for the cadet's 詠春 lesson."

"You're teaching her to be Bruce Lee?" Pike was truly shocked. It was one thing to rib the kid about playing dad to Cadet Uhura, but martial arts lessons might just be taking things a little far.

"Of course not, sir," Spock said, and although his voice was carefully neutral, Chris suspected he'd somehow offended the young officer. "She receives her lessons from a trained master. I merely intend to observe and assess her progress.

"She chose to study 詠春 because it is said to have been developed by woman. Whether or not that is true, the discipline is extremely suited to defending oneself against a larger opponent. I approve of her decision to pursue the art for that, if no other, reason."

Pike told Spock to go, opting not to share his foreboding just yet. _Let the kid learn from his own mistakes_, he figured.

The half-Vulcan stood, his face momentarily disappearing from the view through Pike's comm screen. Then he bowed formally and added, "As recompense for rendering her overqualified to sit the DAV's Intermediate High Vulcan exam, but ill-equipped to pass the advanced exam, I have agreed to accompany the cadet on an excursion to procure garments appropriate to the planned activities."

The screen went blank before Chris could decide whether to laugh or grimace.

"I just hope he doesn't buy the brat a burqa," he said to no one at all.

.

.

"That's certainly a very… warm outfit." Leila smiled at Spock's little cadet. The young woman looked nervous as she turned herself this way and that, examining the thick turtleneck sweater and heavy corduroy trousers in the full-length mirror. The older woman was suddenly glad she'd suggested she get a look at the clothes Spock had helped the girl choose less than a week before. "Those colors suit you splendidly!" It was true. The burnt orange jumper looked lovely against the smooth brown of the cadet's skin and paler tan of the cords.

Nyota beamed at her when their eyes met. "Spock it picked out, Miss Kalomi," she said. Then her gaze immediately when back to the mirror, her face falling. "I _do_ like the colors, but…"

_But too bad the clothes are shapeless and likely to kill you if you try to do anything more strenuous than sit in an over-air-conditioned room_, Leila didn't say. _Make that _lie down_ in an over-air-conditioned room._

If Nyota didn't develop heatstroke on the trip to the discothèque rink, she'd surely manage to sweat her way to a visit to the local hospital's emergency department after less than ten minutes on the ice.

"How long before we need to be at the rink?" Leila asked on impulse.

"We're supposed to pick up Pavel in four hours," the girl told her, still frowning at the reflection in the mirror.

The blonde woman grinned. "Good," she said. "That's more than enough time."

.

.

Preparations for shopping with Leila directing the expedition was similar to going with just Spock, Nyota observed as they set out. Within fifteen minutes of having decided to help her, Spock's girlfriend had formulated a plan that included lists of stores to visit within each of three retail complexes, parking spaces optimal for getting them into one and on to the next destination with as little time in between as possible, as well a multitude of pre-approved fabrics and articles of clothing in colors she said would show off Nyota to her greatest advantage.

The end result of the trip couldn't have been more different.

.

After returning the sweater and trousers, Leila managed to convince her lover's charge to purchase the burgundy miniskirt and vest; Nyota insisted on exchanging the dark grey shirt for one in the same hue as the sweater Spock had chosen. While Spock and Leila waited, she returned to the fabricator with a shop assistant.

"She has a crush on you," Leila observed with a soft smile.

Spock's lips thinned, but his face remained otherwise impassive as one of the figures in the Elgin Marbles. His girlfriend grinned at the cheerless expression.

"I doubt that is the case," he said evenly.

"She does!" Leila insisted. "Why would she just _have_ to keep something to remind her of that horrible outfit you dressed her in?"

Although he forbore raising a brow, Spock didn't quite manage to keep his lips from twisting down briefly. Leila had a habit of watching him closely for just such momentary losses of control.

"Oh come _on_, Spock! There's no need to look so aggrieved," she said reprovingly. "I think it's really sweet."

She liked to think of the infinitesimal lift of his shoulders as a Vulcan sigh.

"I believe your evaluation of the reason behind her choice to be wrong," he told her after a long silence. "As you earlier observed, that color suits her."

His gaze didn't leave the corner of the room where Nyota and the assistant were entering her measurements and preferences into the clothing fabricator.

"However, if you are correct, my mentorship will have failed. I did not set out to relieve her of her desire to _be_ a Vulcan only to have her desire to be _with_ a Vulcan."

.

.

If Spock had ever truly been concerned about the nature of Cadet Uhura's feelings towards him, he would not have needed to worry for long. As things stood, he had never worried about _that_ at all. Soon enough, he had something else entirely to engage his concern.

As Cadet Pavel Andreievich Chekov bounded down the walkway from his dormitory, Leila turned to Cadet Uhura and commenced a conversation in conspiratorial faux whispers.

"Oh, he's _cute_, Nyota!"

Failing to comprehend what was so attractive about the gangly, curly-haired youth rapidly approaching his hover vehicle, Spock leaned forward for a closer look. Surely Cadet Sulu was more aesthetically pleasing to human females?

"I _know_!" Uhura agreed. "That's the other reason I chose him."

He didn't see the cadet's enthusiastic grin, but he could deduce from her tone that it existed.

.

.

The music seeped into her, chasing away fear, the dogged need for control and everything that wasn't the pounding beat crying out for her to lose herself.

She didn't even know when she went from appreciating the sound to rolling her shoulders and swinging her hips in ways she'd only ever let carry her away when she was with her Wakufunzi cousins. At some point she became aware that she wasn't alone, that Pavel's hands were on her and he was matching her, rock for rock, glide for glide.

The ice under her feet lent a grace to her dancing that she couldn't perceive herself. But what she wasn't aware of in her own body, she clearly saw in Pavel's. He danced with an expertise that made her heart race. His smiling face was impossible to resist as he encouraged her to attempt ever more complicated series of movements.

Following where he led was instinctive. Effortless.

She felt powerful. She felt at home within her body. She felt connected.

She felt human.

.

Grinning as he skated backwards, towing Nyota, Pavel pushed his damp curls away from his forehead with the hand that wasn't holding hers. How had he gotten so lucky? He said a silent prayer of thanks that the beautiful older cadet had accepted his invitation.

Even if that meant their chaperones for the evening was the stuffy Vulcan lieutenant and the gorgeous blonde who kept trying to get him to slip out onto the ice. Pavel wondered idly if Miss Kalomi was Russian. And if she was Mister Spock's girlfriend.

But then Nyota was drifting around him in a lazy circle, her maroon miniskirt billowing out in the breeze she created, and he forgot all about the two adults who were supposed to be watching out for them.

.

For the first time that evening, Spock ventured away from the railing without prompting. He was surprised to feel Leila place a restraining hand on his forearm. Of course, he could easily have broken free of her hold in order to continue on his way, but he was by nature a curious creature and therefore wanted to know why she would break the unstated protocol that had existed, unchallenged, throughout the duration of their relationship and touch him so in public.

Halting his forward progression, he turned to her and raised a querying brow. Her answering smile was patient; he recognized the expression from long experience.

"Let it go, Spock," she said. "They're just having fun. See?" She indicated the cadets with a subtle nod of her head and he glanced back to where Cadet Chekov was spinning around, Cadet Uhura clasped tight in his arms. "No harm. Nyota is enjoying herself. Wasn't that what you wanted? Isn't that the whole point?"

Spock angled his head so that he could study the human woman with whom he had been engaging in an intimate relationship for the past four months and three days. Surely she understood him well enough to realize that allowing Mister Chekov to maul his charge had _not_ been his intention?

"The point," he told her, "was for Cadet Uhura to expand her repertoire of common human social behaviors."

Leila's smile broadened.

"And that's exactly what she's doing."

Spock sighed inaudibly. Clearly she did not understand him as well as he had assumed.

"It is not Cadet Uhura's behavior that I object to, although I would have preferred her to utilize her knowledge of 詠春. Cadet Chekov's actions, however, are indecent."

She laughed. The young Russian cadet was touching Spock's protégée in a manner that was just short of public mating and Leila's trilling laughter rang out through the skating facility as if nothing was amiss.

"Oh, Spock!" she said through gasps for breath. "Really! Have you looked around the rink? What those two are doing is positively Puritanical compared to what others are doing."

Spock dutifully eyed the other patrons of the rink. True enough, several couples and trios were engaged in activities he would not have imagined easily achieved while wearing sharp-bladed boots and slipping on ice, but that was besides the point.

"That is different," he pointed out. "The majority of the other patrons on the ice appear to be adults, or approaching adulthood, at the very least. Cadet Uhura is little more than a child."

Leila laughed again, tugging Spock back to the railing as she skated backwards.

"She's way more than a child, Spock," she told him. "You just don't see it because you've stuck yourself in this fatherly role for her. It's okay. Lot's of dads are protective like that. But, trust me, she's a beautiful young woman. There's hardly anything childish about the way she looks. And I'd say it's about time she stopped acting like a child."

Her eyes left his face to find the cadets again. Spock followed her gaze. Cadet Chekov, eyes closed, smiled blissfully as Cadet Uhura held his hand and employed centrifugal force to orbit around him.

"Now, Chekov. _He's_ still a child, though he sure doesn't act like one! I think this is good for Nyota, actually."

Feeling his lips thin in consternation, Spock searched for the serenity that had rarely escaped his control since he'd committed to following the path of Surak. He remained silent until he knew he could speak as dispassionately as was his wont.

"I disagree," he told his 'girlfriend.' "I fail to see how learning to engage in unacceptable behaviors is to Uhura's benefit. She would have done better to accept my choice for her first perchance romantic social excursion."

He thought she might laugh at him again. The sharp look she turned on him, instead, was wholly unexpected.

"Really?" she said, and he found her tone to be unnecessarily arch. "Don't tell me you know nothing about Hikaru Sulu's reputation as a 'a ladies' man.' If Nyota was out there with him right now, she'd likely be doing something _far worse_ than spinning circles."

Spock had just decided not to imagine what Leila might mean by that when she added in an undertone, "I should know!"

* * *

Reference: The first verse and chorus of Morcheeba's _Be Yourself_.

* * *

**A/N:** This is chapter 4 of 10, folks. As always, the music is at my lj.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek characters or concepts or any material produced by Morcheeba. I do not profit from writing or quoting.


	5. Slow Down

"Stop that!" Gaila grabbed the human girl's wrist, stopping her from ruining any more of the expertly-applied make-up than what she'd already smeared off. Twitching the cotton pad from Nyota's fingers, she paused to give the girl's face an appraising scan before tossing the pad in the disposal bin at their feet. "It's mostly fine as it is right now, but I swear, if you screw up all my good work, I might have to hurt you."

"You can _try_. I'm stronger than I look," Nyota warned, grinning like the idiot Gaila knew she wasn't. "Besides, it's not really necessary; if anyone questions me, I've got my RAC-L."

Gaila shook her head, smiling ruefully, but she let go and began stashing of the tools of her hobby into her cosmetic bag before the child got any other ideas. "You humans and all your rules!" she chided as she worked. "Your government will legislate _anything_."

In spite of her smile, the Orion woman was annoyed. Earth's most sapient native species liked to think they were an open-minded people; the truth was, in their own way, humans were nearly as repressed as Vulcans. Maybe even more so. At least Vulcans didn't have so many _valateliveh _laws!

"The whole point is that you don't _want_ anyone questioning you so you _don't_ have to whip out your booze card. Do you know what a turnoff that is for anyone who's not a criminally-minded sleaze?"

Gaila glanced up for a final check before frowning and reaching back into her bag. She fixed her friend's smudged eyeliner then nodded in satisfaction with her handiwork.

"There. You look gorgeous, Nee. And there are even some guys out there who will think the whole freakishly strong thing is sexy!"

Nyota rolled her eyes. "Not that it'll matter."

"Of course it matters!" Gaila exclaimed, hoping the brightness of her voice would cover the pity she was feeling. Terrans! "It's all about presenting the package and saving credits."

Not that all of her enthusiasm — probably not even a good deal of it — had anything to do with her desire for her friend to have a good time. It wasn't the child's fault Starfleet — in spite of the pheromone suppressors she submitted every month without fail — didn't trust Orion women not break their stupid sex protocols. She _knew_ that was why this summer she'd been paired with a kid who hadn't even passed her palliative intercourse exam. But Nee didn't need to worry about all that. Gaila just needed her to leave so she couldn't be charged with engaging in sexual activity in the vicinity of an unlicensed individual.

"They don't need to know _why_ you're going home alone; they just need to see that you are. Trust me, by the time you get your PI-L — and you won't fail a third time, not now that you've got me — you'll have a line waiting to help you break it in. Now get the hell out of here and go have fun!"

That funny, knowing look she sometimes got flickered across Nyota's face before it broke into the smile they'd been practicing nearly all summer.

"I'll stay out as late as I can, Gai," she tossed over her shoulder as she strutted through the door to their quarters, "but don't expect to get an all-nighter out of it. Bars close early in Iowa."

"Damn!" Gaila murmured to the otherwise empty room. "I think she figured it out."

.

Ten minutes after leaving the barracks, Uhura squared her shoulders, tried on the self-assured smile she'd been practicing all summer with Gaila, then fell into herself before pushing through the doors and strutting into Riverside's most popular nightspot — well, the _only_ nightspot, according to other cadets in the summer program — Shipyard Bar.

.

.

"You've got a problem, Lieutenant _Commander_."

Spock stared at his comm screen, debating whether or not Christopher Pike's emphasis on the final word of his declaration indicated displeasure, or if had been intended to be a subtly congratulatory note. The fact that the statement had begun with "You've got a problem" would normally suggest the former, but, as Spock was well aware, human behavior was not always so simple. Captain Pike was at times particularly difficult to—

"This is serious, Spock!" The captain's voice, snapping out from the audio unit in tone that matched the frown now on his face, left no room for debate this time. "I haven't going to bat for you all this time just to have you fuck it all up with an experiment gone wrong at this stage. You've barely got the skinny band added to your uniform and there's already trouble attached to your name. If you hope to have thick stripes before launch, you need to nip this in the bud."

Spock did not waste time contemplating the inference that his promotion had come solely through the captain's influence; he was well aware that he had earned his new rank. Christopher knew this, as well. Just as he knew Spock would gain a full commander's two thick bars on his own merit, or not at all. Those facts were not in question and would not even have come up in conversation had Pike not been distressed. However…

"Captain," Spock said evenly, although it did occur to him that his friends and mentor might be experiencing some form of an altered state. Illicit drug use? Illness? Perhaps Christopher was merely tired. The hour was rather late by human standards. "It is necessary for me to know what this 'problem' is if I am to address it."

Pike exhaled heavily and looked down at his desk. After five point eight seconds during which he didn't appear to breathe at all, he looked up again and inhale with nearly as much force.

"Your cadet," he said, his voice tightly controlled, "incited a bar brawl in Iowa."

For a moment — he didn't calculate the passage of time — Spock watched his commanding officer, utterly confused, then, "My cadet, Captain?"

Sighing again, Pike shook his head. It was a gesture Spock had grown accustomed to having the man direct at him.

"Cadet Uhura — indirectly, if I'm going to take the word of the four other cadets and the civilian involved, and I _am_ going to take their word on it — somehow managed to get five young men to fight over her."

Quickly, and seemingly without embellishment, the captain explained the events of earlier that evening.

"So, you can see why I didn't approach the cadet herself after getting the others' testimony, but her name will still appear in the official report. That means you have a problem, and I expect you to do something about it."

Spock wasn't sure what exactly Christopher expected him to do. Given the facts of the incident, any attempt at putting an official condemnation on Cadet Uhura's record would be in direct violation of not only Starfleet Regulation 4-2:20 subset 22 — the so called "Don't Blame the Victim" regulation — but also of United Earth's similar statute, if the civilian where to decide he wanted to press charges against his attackers.

He said as much to Pike.

"That's exactly why this is _your_ problem. Starfleet can't say anything because, officially, she didn't do anything wrong. There's no reg or law that says a pretty girl can't flirt with a pretty boy in a bar if she wants. The ideal says she shouldn't have to worry about getting mixed up in a fight for following human nature." Pike frowned. "That's the _ideal_, Spock. Reality is that some men — hell, _a lot_ of men — don't think with their heads when there's a beautiful woman around. Your cadet needs to know that, or shit like this will happen around her all the time!"

The idea that Christopher would use the terms "beautiful" and "woman" to describe Cadet Uhura was surprising, but the realization that he seemed to also be ignoring the tenets and mores behind SFR 4-2:20.22 was actually disturbing. Surely the captain wasn't thinking clearly.

"If she's really as wrapped up in Vulcan behavior as you said she was, it's you responsibility to explain to her what happened and why," Pike added firmly. "She can't go around acting like that just anywhere."

Understanding rapidly replacing confusion, Spock quickly contemplated an appropriate response. His captain _was_ thinking clearly; he was not thinking logically, however, and wanted Spock to meet his illogical demands. To do so would be untenable, but experience had taught Spock it was best to tread carefully when speaking of such matters.

"But sir, if her behavior was in no way objectionable—"

"Spock, I don't need to hear your logical dispute with my reasoning!" Pike snapped. "Right now, I just need this taken care of. And you're the only officer who can handle it discreetly, in a non-official manner and get away with it. Okay?" He ran a hand through his hair, a rough, jagged motion.

Spock watched his former mentor stare down at his desk again. He didn't want to add to Pike's discomfiture, but neither did he wish to the one forced to violate both gender-discrimination laws and current human mores. When the captain looked up again, the frustration seemed to have faded somewhat, but otherwise Spock couldn't read the expression on the older man's face.

"Look, son," Pike said, his voice softer. "Can you just do this? Please? Fair or not, right or wrong, it'll help your cadet." Then, his tone brusque again, he added, "If you must, think of it as another lesson in human interactions.

"We hop back to San Francisco in a few hours, and I still need to get some sleep."

And then, because Pike ended the communication before he could answer, Spock recognized that he'd been given an order rather than a choice.

When he arrived in his office the next morning, he was no closer to knowing how best to approach the situation than he had been the night before. He devoted fully a third of his cognitive processes to matter as he set about preparing lecture notes for his Accelerated Elementary Vulcan class and revised the syllabi for his computer science courses. Cadet Uhura, and the vagaries of human behavior, remained very much on his mind, but neither prevented him from working on his self-appointed tasks in a satisfactory manner.

By the time his comm chime sounded at mid-morning, he'd already prepared lectures for the whole of the upcoming first term and made several changes — all of which would increase efficiency and the cadets' applied knowledge — for three levels of computer systems classes.

He depressed the comm unit's "Accept Call" button with barely a break in entering his notes.

"Spock here."

"Good morning, Lieutenant _Commander_," said a voice he had not heard all summer. "We have a bit of a problem, and I'd like to know why and what you intend to do about it."

Spock looked up to meet Commander Barnes's pale gaze. Her antennae were furled close to her smooth white hair and her mouth was a thin, grim line. It took some measure of control for him not sigh.

"Indeed, Commander," he agreed. "Captain Pike contacted me last night."

Barnes's antennae shot away from her head and she threw up her hands.

"Don't talk to me about that man!" She leaned forward so that her face almost filled the screen. "_He's_ the problem! Him and men who think like him. I want to know what you intend to do to keep them off Nyota's back!"

.

.

Cadet Uhura was smiling as she entered his office three hours later. It was an expression he'd rarely had the opportunity to see on her face, and never before directed at him.

She was taller, Spock noted, and her facial features had matured significantly since they'd last met two months before. She appeared to have suffered no damage from the night before — either physically or emotionally. He wondered if their discussion would change the latter half of that observation.

He still hadn't decided how best to proceed; hearing the cadet's side of the story would possibly give him a better idea of what to say.

"Please sit," he said without preamble and brought his fingertips together, his elbows resting on his desk. Once she'd complied he ordered, "Tell what happened last night."

The cadet's smile faded into an emotionless mask. _Fascinating. It is as by learning to openly _express_ her emotions in my presence, she has become better able to _suppress_ the expression of her emotions in my presence._ He made a mental note to speak with Commander Paraklis about that.

The cadet gave a more detailed account of the incident than Captain Pike had done, all offered in a carefully toneless voice. Spock listened without interrupting, saving his several questions on specifics until she was finished speaking.

"I assume 'Gaila' is Cadet Naeeda?" At her nod, he continued. "You were assigned to be her roommate for the summer program, and she has been advising you on dating practices. Why?"

Uhura's expression did not alter as she said, "I requested her assistance?"

Asking an Orion for help in romantic matters was not unheard of. Still, for Cadet Uhura to do so seemed unusual. Out of character. "Why?"

For the first time since she'd taken her seat, the cadet looked uncomfortable, but the hint of emotionality was quickly hidden.

"I failed to meet the standards of the emotional and mental aspects of the PI-L evaluation." At the revelation, Spock's left brow shot up before he thought to stop it. Cadet Uhura continued speaking as if she had not seen his shameful display. "Twice. I do not intend to fail a third time."

"And you thought that Cadet Naeeda would be able to guide in meeting human standards of emotional and mental readiness for palliative intercourse?"

He didn't know what to expect next from his young charge. She didn't shrug, or bite her lip as she done when first discussing her choice of dates. Her voice and her demeanor remained neutral as she explained her reasoning.

"At first, I sought the aid of Miss Kalomi. Although she was able to help me adequately prepare for the quantitative knowledge section, she assumed I understood things about the human psyche, simply because I am human, and did not help me learn those things. Gaila assumes I know nothing, so she teaches me everything."

The answer was straightforward and entirely reasonable. That didn't make Spock any more comfortable with the idea of the cadet engaging in PI. Or hearing that she was attempting to become licensed to do so.

"You are not _required_ to obtain a PI-L unless you are assigned to a starship on a deep space mission. You have not even started your second year at the Academy. Why have already twice sat the examination?"

Spock knew the question was slightly off-topic, but he suspected that her answer would have a strong relationship to the fight in the bar.

"I did not want to wait. Most Terran humans my age have theirs already. Many who do not regularly engage in PI illegally. It was _your_ goal for me to behave more like a Terran human, but I assumed that goal did not include illegal activities."

This time, he didn't suppress his sigh. Pike had been correct, though not in the way the captain imagined. Spock _did_ have a problem. Now, at least, he knew what he needed to say.

It didn't take long to inform her of there were often considerable differences between human law and human nature, or to make her understand the possible consequences those differences might on how she was treated.

"You joined Starfleet because it is an organization built on rules and structure, didn't you?" he asked softly. "That was part of its attraction to me, as well. Unfortunately, Cadet, the ideal does not always match the reality. That does not mean Starfleet is without merit, however. It simply means that one must be aware of the divergences, and work to narrow them."

He recognized what lay behind the brief expression that crossed her face as she processed his explanation. Understanding. Kinship. It was the same not entirely explicable connection that had moved him to offer to mentor her soon after their first meeting. It was a connection he had not perceived in some time, and certainly not one she had previously been aware of.

And that was his fault, he realized suddenly. Because he had spent more effort in training her to behave as a human than in helping her understand human behavior. The balance of their time together—whether during her High Vulcan tutorial, or during the classes she had stood in as assistant — had been devoted to traditional academics endeavors.

Spock thought of his first meeting with Commander Barnes. He had, in effect, offered to guide this young woman through a difficult adjustment by drawing on his own challenging initiation into a predominantly human lifestyle. But in the end, he'd told Cadet Uhura very little of his inauspicious beginnings.

His next decision was the only logical one available to him.

"My expectations of the behavior of Starfleet personnel were similarly inaccurate. Situations such as this one were, in part, something I hoped the advantage of learning from my experiences would spare you. Clearly, in not sharing those experiences more explicitly, I failed to adequately prepare you. It would be reasonable for you to decide that you no longer wish to continue that aspect of our association. However, if you are willing, I will endeavor not to make similar mistakes in the future."

The cadet continued to gaze back at him, her expression neutral, but he thought he also detected something like curiosity in the minute narrowing of her eyes. He waited in silence, again appreciating that she took time to think before giving her answer.

"I believe it would be in my best interests to continue the mentorship, Savensu," she said after two minutes had elapsed. "Last year, I was uncertain why you wished to work with me or how you could possibly be of assistance. It seems that you were not fully prepared for the latter, either. Now that we are both better informed, I think our efforts will be much more successful. I'd prefer to keep you as my mentor, sir."

He didn't quite understand the warm feeling that spread through his abdomen; he knew that a large part of it was relief, but the rest was beyond his experience. He would think about it at a later time, he decided. Cadet Uhura was speaking again.

"Until I attain a greater understanding of the nuances of such behaviors, I believe it will perhaps be better for me to take a more observational approach to human mating practices."

"That would be wise. For now, perhaps you should tell me some of the things Cadet Naeeda has been teaching you."

Fifteen minutes later, Cadet Uhura stared at him in noticeable confusion.

"Making use of pseudo-antagonistic witticisms is a common approach to amatory repartee," she protested, her bland voice at odds with her furrowed brow.

Spock decided not to correct her incomplete information yet. Instead, he addressed a more immediate concern.

"And do you believe that Cadet Chekov would not mind that you were 'flirting' with other men?"

"I am certain," she asserted. "Because Pavel ended our relationship before I left for the summer tour. He was displeased with my dislike for engaging in… a certain activity."

Her mentor allowed his raised eyebrow speak for itself.

"I did not enjoy osculating. It was very wet."

Suppressing a shudder of distaste, but conceding that imparting the information was necessary and that it might make his future dealings with the cadet less fraught with awkward circumstances, Spock dryly informed her, "Kissing humans usually is."

* * *

"He said I have an aptitude for communications engineering, so I'm taking more classes in that next term," Uhura told her sister. "Tala didn't like that _at all_, since she'd supposed to be my academic advisor, but I'm not changing my concentration or anything and even she has to admit that there's more to Xenolinguistics than just knowing the languages."

"And if it was just about knowing the languages, they could have handed you your first assignment as soon as you set foot on campus," Upenda observed with a little smile.

"Exactly!" Uhura agreed with a brisk nod. "And it's all fine now, anyway. That's just how Spock explained it to her. So, now Tala thinks it's a great idea for me to focus a little on other aspects of a communications officer's duties, as long as Spock and I continue the learning to be human thing.

"But… Penda, I just learned Leila thought I had a _crush_ on him. She even told him so, which has just made being in his presence completely awkward. Especially now that they're broken up?"

Her sister's eyes — and her smile — widened.

"She dumped him?" Upenda sounded far too pleased with the development.

Uhura eyed her suspiciously. She _knew_ Penda did more than just "admire him for his mind."

"No," she said carefully. "He ended the relationship. She said he didn't like her helping me study for my PI-L."

Penda's sudden laughter was as startling as it was confusing.

"Ha! He doesn't want to think of you having sex."

Wrinkling her nose, Uhura glared at her sister. "I don't _want_ him to think of me having sex. But I do want him to stop treating me like I'm still too young and stupid to get licensed for it. Don't misunderstand, dada, it's way nicer working with him this year than it was last year, but I just wish he'd do something more to help me move forward on _his_ project than drag me around to 'events of cultural interest' or get me invited to Admiral Barnett's diplomatic dos!"

Upenda just laughed again.

"Look, Ennie," she said, wiping her eyes, "it seems as if your Gaila knows what she's doing. Why do you need Spock's help?"

Uhura frowned, thinking about that.

"It's not that I need his help," she said eventually. "I'd just like his acknowledgement that I have the right to learn. I want him to start treating me like an adult."

For a long moment, Upenda didn't say anything. She didn't laugh or smile, either. When she finally spoke, her voice was quietly serious.

"This isn't because you want to use your PI-L on _him_, is it?"

"I don't like him _that_ way," Uhura said incredulously. "Not like _you_ do."

Smiling again, Upenda brushed the last comment aside. "I admire him for his mind," she said for what had to be the thousandth time. "The thing is Ennie, PI is nice—it can even be great sometimes — but you can be perfectly happy without it. No need to rush things. You've got almost three years until graduation when you'll actually need the license. Just enjoy yourself for now. PI will come when it comes."

"You and Muta both got yours when you were sixteen, same time you got your RAC-Ls!" Uhura retorted stubbornly.

"You aren't me or Muta, En." Upenda grinned at her. "Trust me, dada, this can wait. And you know I'm always right."

* * *

Reference: The first verse and chorus to _Slow Down_, by Morcheeba.

* * *

**A/N:** Chapter 5 of 10, folks. The music is at my lj.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek characters or concepts or any material produced by Morcheeba. I do not profit from writing or quoting.


	6. Public Displays of Affection

_Concentrating on not expressing her nervousness, Uhura sat still and outwardly relaxed across from her mentor. She didn't know why he had asked her to see him, or why, now tat she was in his office, he looked so unusually grave, rather than simply expressionless. Could something have happened to Penda or Mu? Mama? Baba? Both of her parents? All of her family? _

_She tried to recall what she had read of Academy policy for informing cadets of family tragedies, but failed. Besides, surely if one of the Uhuras was ill or injured or… deceased, Commander Barnes would be the more logical choice for letting her know. Unless Tally was too consumed by her own grief to carry out the duty._

_Overwhelmed by her imagination and half convinced that she had properly guesses the purpose of the meeting, Uhura finally lost her battle with control and shifted uncomfortably in her seat._

_"Cadet Uhura," Spock said, as if he had been waiting for just that moment. "You have not been making sufficient progress in one of your alternate areas of study." She let out a relieved sigh at that learning he wasn't about to tell her she'd been orphaned, but then reason reasserted itself. Before she could demand to know in which area she was failing to pass muster, he continued. "As Admiral Barnett had taken a special interest in your education—"_

_She shot to her feet, snapping her arms across her chest and accusing, "That's _your_ fault!" _

_Spock just calmly raised a brow until she took her seat again, still fuming, but silently vowing not to interrupt again. Still, not having her unvoiced promise, he let several seconds pass before he spoke again._

_"As Admiral Barnett has takes a special interest in your education," he repeated, "and as he is aware that I am your mentor, he has asked me to personally address the issue."_

_Standing, he began to undo the fasteners to his uniform jacket._

_"The admiral is concerned that you have twice failed to procure your license for Palliative Intercourse." He shrugged out of the jacket, letting it drop to the floor behind his desk. "Although one is not required for Starfleet personnel serving planetside or on short-term space missions, it is your unqualified desire to be assigned to the USS Enterprise upon graduation, is it not?"_

_Having no clue where this odd conversation were leading, or what his even stranger actions might mean, she nodded shakily — her nervousness having come back, full force — and croaked, "Y-yes, Savensu."_

_"In that case, Cadet," he said, "undress."_

_He pulled his shirt over his head to reveal a lean but muscled chest, tossed the garment aside and immediately placed his hands on the fasteners at the waist of his trousers._

_"Sir?"_

_He spared her a patient glance before returning to the task at hand. "Was I unclear, Cadet? Please remove your clothing." Tugging his trousers down, he followed his own order._

_With trembling fingers, she started to comply, but couldn't ignore the question niggling at her thoughts._

_"To… to what purpose are we undressing, sir?" she asked as she slid out of her jacket. "Since I still don't have my PI-L, I presume we won't be engaging in PI, and as I failed only the mental and emotional readiness sections of the exam, having sexual intercourse now wouldn't necessarily increase my future chances at success, anyway." She was surprised and pleased at the steadiness of her voice, and was already half out of her scarlet turtleneck when he replied._

_"As your difficulties lie with the mental and emotional portions of the PI-L exam, I believe an attempt to learn why that is so is in order."_

_Her eyes widened as her skirt slid to the floor and she looked up. As far as she could see, he was completely nude. When he stepped around the desk, she saw that she'd been mostly right about that, and wondered idly how he'd managed to step out of his trousers and underpants without removing his boots. Thinking about his underwear naturally led to thinking about what they were designed to contain, and wide eyes trailed down his torso without her permission._

_"As you know, Vulcans are touch telepaths," he murmured, moving closer. "What you may not know, is that there is a method — we call it melding — for two entities to more fully… join together."_

_"No," she whispered as she watched him step even closer. Apart from her mouth, she realized, she couldn't move a muscle. "I've heard of that. I've just… never seen it demonstrated. And no Vulcan was ever even willing to explain the process to me."_

_"I am not surprised, Nyota," he said, halting so near she could feel the heat emanating from his skin. "It is one of our most intimate acts, and something we rarely share with offworlders."_

_Uhura sucked in a deep breath and, regaining the power of motion, reached back to unclasp her bra._

_"So, melding is like… PI?"_

_For a moment, he looked startled and she was so surprised at seeing so much expression on his face, she was able to quickly divest herself of bra and panties without a graction of the embarrassment she would otherwise have expected to feel._

_"My apologies, Cadet," he said, sounding genuinely sorry. "I should have explained. I have no intention of having sexual relations with you."_

_Part of her was relieved to hear that as she unfastened the band of her skirt. A smaller part, one she didn't want to examine too closely, was disappointed and even a little insulted. He was standing only centimeters from a reasonably attractive nude woman and yet his _lok _hung long and soft between his thighs as if he was completely unaffected. _

_"While the mind meld is a part of Vulcan sex practices, and indeed we cannot engage in intercourse without it, it is not necessary to copulate in order to meld. But it does require a large amount of skin-to-skin contact. And as you are human and therefore unable to contribute to the power of the meld, the need for such contact is significantly increased."_

_"Oh," she said stupidly. Then, snapping her drifting eyes back to his face, "But should we doing this here?" She turned her head and eyed the closed door behind her warily. _

_"You have a valid point," he admitted. "We should go… elsewhere."_

_Suddenly she was awash in shimmering light so bright she was forced to close her eyes. When she opened them again, she was standing in a dim, stark bedroom._

_Noting her confusion he explained, "I had us transported to my faculty apartment."_

_"Oh," she said again, looking around curiously. She hadn't even heard him give the command._

_"The bed, Nyota," he ordered vaguely, softly._

_Glancing over at the plain, neatly made bed, she asked, "Under the covers or on top?"_

_"Whichever makes you more comfortable," was the answer. "Melding is tiring even for a non-active participant, and emotional transference is unavoidable. I would prefer that we both were both out of danger of collapse through this."_

_"Oh," she said a third time, and pulled back his duvet, thick blanket and soft sheet to sit on his bed. He immediately knelt down in front of her and began removing her boots and long socks._

_"As much contact as possible," he reminded her, sounding somewhat distracted. Once done, he sat next to her to take off his own. "Lie down," he murmured when his feet were as bare as the rest of him._

_She had to swing her legs past him in order to comply and soon he was lying next to her, their bodies only centimeters apart._

_"I have to touch you, Nyota," he told her. As if she was stupid._

_"Okay," she whispered, her voice tremulous again._

_He moved in, wrapping his arms around her, tangling his legs with hers. She noticed he was no longer entirely indifferent to her nakedness, but then he pressed his cheek to hers and she was lost._

.

Uhura shot up in her bed, breathing heavily. Frantically, she swung her head towards her roommate only to see through the near darkness that the other woman was still asleep.

No matter how much better she was getting along with her mentor this year, she had a hard time imagining they would ever get along _that_ well.

_Well, your subconscious doesn't seem to have all that hard a time imagining it_, she told herself._ I just _really_ hope I don't talk in my sleep if I'm going to be having dreams like that all year_ .

After a few more deep breaths, she lay back down, trying (and failing) to find sleep again.

.

.

Despite Uhura's complaints to her siblings, she truly _had_ found her association with her mentor to be considerably more rewarding over the course of the first two terms of her second year. While she was well aware that the greater part of her new-found ease with the lieutenant commander could be attributed to the absence of the suspicions she'd harbored towards him since (if she was completely honest with herself) their first meeting, she knew he was also making an effort to ensure the time they spent together outside classrooms and his office not only more closely matched her interests, but also addressed all — save one, of course — of what they decided were her weaknesses.

It probably helped that, as the year progressed and the outings took on a rudimentary structure with definite educational value, other cadets joined in the outings which were more obviously academically beneficial. That development gave her another opportunity to increase her circle of friends, and she enthusiastically made use of it. More importantly, however, she genuinely enjoyed many of the concerts, lectures and art shows the lieutenant commander encouraged her to attend.

Clearly, they worked well together and at times, he even seemed to enjoy her company. They were almost, she liked to believe, becoming… friends. She could tell him just about anything — he was nearly always understanding and usually had solutions to offer. Even when he didn't quite "get" whatever she was talking about, he at least made the attempt.

Until roughly seventy percent of his Introductory Systems Analysis class failed the term's first exam and she offered a theory about why.

"Perhaps, Savensu," she suggested during a High Vulcan tutorial in his office, "you should give this particular group a second chance. With all due respect, I believe it is only fair to point out that you must accept some liability for their difficulties in concentrating on the subject."

"How so?"

"Gaila conducted an informal survey of the cadets who did not excel in the examination. She was able to determine that eighty-nine percent of them have a definite sexual preference for male humanoids. Moreover, she observed, over the break your muscle mass and definition increased to the point of coming close to what many of those same students identified as ideal. That, combined with the unusual symmetry of your facial structure, gives these students more reason to be distracted in your class than by those taught by less visually pleasing instructors."

"Cadet, I am not responsible for the configuration of my physical features. Would you and Cadet Naeeda have me scar my face or perhaps abandon my exercise regimen and eating habits until I became unfit? Would that be fairer to my students?"

Uhura refused to give in to the impulse to sigh at his refusal to see reason. "Never mind, Savensu. Please disregard my information."

Spock must have seem some indication of her displeasure, however. "Nyota," he said, sounding curious instead of . "Were you attempting to flirt with me?"

Annoyed that she'd been so woefully transparent, and evidently unsuccessful, Uhura made a mental note not to allow her Orion friend to choose her victims in the future.

"Yes," she admitted. "Did you not tell me it was a practice most humans engage in? And that, after the unfortunate incident in Iowa, I needed more practice?"

She endured his long, quizzical stare in silence, knowing full well that he was composing a response that could serve as both a chastisement and a lesson, while sounding neither demeaning nor dispiriting. "Most young women choose more appropriate targets," he told her. "While it is not unprecedented among humans and similar species for a student to develop a kind of… _intense esteem_ for one of his or her instructors, it is generally considered unwise for either party to explore such admiration."

_Damn!_ She needed to make it clear that — dream or no dream, and as the saying went, hell would freeze over before ever told tell him about _that_ — she wasn't trying to seduce him or anything similarly inappropriate. Thinking quickly, she reminded him, "You also told me it is a skill many humans use not only in romantic pursuits, but also in general interpersonal relations where a high level of courtesy is expected. After you pointed that out, I recalled that Mama often used similar tactics in her dealings with other diplomats."

"Conceded," he said, nodding. "However, you will need still _more_ practice if you hope to attain a proficiency sufficient to employ such skills in your work as a communications officer."

"Yes, Savensu," she said, more to keep him from beginning another lecture than because she agreed. "Still, perhaps if you were to requisition new uniforms that fit your physique less closely, and if you were to give the cadets a grace period in which to adjust to your altered appearance, you would find that they pay more attention to the course material and less attention to their instructor's appeal."

He gazed her steadily for several seconds through which she had to resist an urge to fidget. "I will take your advice under consideration, Cadet," he said at last. "Now, please recite T'Sapil's fourth coda to the _Lak'tra T'Ko-mekhlar._"

Uhura knew that was as close as she would get to a concession to her superior wisdom as she would get and began speaking the words of the ancient piece of literature.

.

.

"Flirting," Nyota announced, slumping in her seat, "is a useless waste of time."

Muta grinned at his little sister. "That depends on who's doing the flirting. And on _ with_ _whom_ they are flirting."

Nyota just grunted crossly, twisting her lips mutinously. Her brother's grin fell, and was replaced with a look that was somewhere between concern and dread. It seemed a lot closer to dread.

"Baby Star—" he began.

"How are classes?" she interrupted, sitting up and pasting on a brilliantly fake smile.

"Ennie…"

"What about your music?" she cut in again. "Learned any new songs?"

"Nyota Wangari Uhura!" Muta's sharp tone brooked no further interference, and she was left with no other option but to answer with a meek, "Yes?"

"Have you been hitting on the Vulcan?"

"Well, I _tried_, kaka." she told him. "But he just said I still need more practice."

Not knowing what else to do, Muta Uhura laughed until his wheezing brought the communication to an earlier end than usual.

* * *

As soon as he saw her enter his Interspecies Ethics classroom — the Academy was making considerably more use of his time in the third term of his teaching tenure — Spock signaled for Cadet Uhura to join him at the dais.

"Cadet Uhura," he began once she was standing next to him, her habitual curiosity evident, "it has come to my attention that you attempted to refuse Admiral Barnett's invitation to the annual Academy Diplomatic Welcome Gala on the grounds that you lack suitable attire."

Although only the smallest tightening of her shoulders and mouths indicated her discomfort, he recognized the change for the embarrassment and guilt it indicated.

"We have already discussed why it is important for you to attend such events," he said evenly. "I know that you dislike the way many of your mother's colleagues treated you earlier this year, but did you not tell me, only last week, that many of them have become accustomed to the change in you? That the 'Dip. Corps grapevine' would prepare most who have not seen you since before you joined Starfleet to meet a more openly interactive Nyota Uhura?"

She bit her lip and stared at the floor. "You know that I did, Savensu," she said.

He decided not to demand that she meet his eye while addressing him. He was, after all, attempting to be more understanding of feelings now. "And are you also aware that it is simply a matter of having the correct permissions to acquire Formal Dress?"

Then she did look up. "The admiral's secretary informed me of that when I declined, sir."

Spock nodded. "So you will be attending, then?"

"I don't have any other choice, sir," she said, and sounded so reluctantly resigned he immediately wished he hadn't been asked to press her on the matter.

"Cadet," he said, trying to imbue his voice with some of the fellow-feeling he'd felt for her since they'd met, "would you be more comfortable attending if I were to unofficially escort you?"

He expected her immediate assent and relief. He was surprise to see her bite her lip again and glance off to the side.

"I suppose that would be agreeable, sir," she said, meeting his gaze again.

"Very well, Cadet. You may take your seat," he told her, though still confused by her reaction. "We can make further arrangements during you High Vulcan tutorial."

.

.

Cadets were rarely called upon to attend white tie events, so few were expected to procure the most ceremonial of the dress uniforms: Formal Dress. As both the daughter of a Federation Ambassador and as an exemplary officer candidate, Nyota Uhura was designated one of the few exceptions.

As it seldom carried any real opportunity to stand out with Starfleet brass — the "privilege and honor" was almost always reserved for the offspring of dignitaries, and everyone knew who your parents were didn't matter when it came to getting choice assignments — it was a distinction that even the most ingratiating of cadets rarely aspired to. In this, Cadet Uhura was no different from her peers.

Since so few were requested, the Office of the Quartermaster did not keep Cadet Formal Dress in stock, and each gad to be fabricated at need. Uhura grumbled to Tala the whole way over to the Office about wasting its staff's valuable time just to get uniform she'd wear a few times at most. More importantly, she argued, the clingy synthetic silk uniforms where supremely uncomfortable and notoriously unflattering.

"If it means wearing the 'Clingon', I'd rather not go," she informed her advisor while an Academy assistant quartermaster scanned her measurements.

"You don't have a choice," Commander Barnes told her. Once the other woman disappeared, she confided, "Barnett is creaming his pants at having two Academy representatives at this shindig. You're going, _Clingon_ and all. Suck it up, En!"

Uhura wanted to protest further, but just then the woman returned with a freshly fabricated scarlet jacket and skirt dangling from a single hanger. In her other hand, she held a darker read short-sleeved, high-necked tunic.

"Why don't you go try these on, Cadet," she said, with a sympathetic smile, and pointed out the dressing rooms. "Call me if you need any assistance, but everything should fit perfectly."

Of course, everything _did_ fit as if it had been made for her.

_That's because it_ was, _dummy_! Uhura thought at her reflection.

The uniform fit perfectly, but it didn't leave much to the imagination. She wondered if the Office provided special undergarments.

.

Tala let out a low whistle when Nyota finally emerged from the dressing room. She'd learned the response from her husband and it always made her smile to hear it aimed at her. Ennie, apparently, was a different story.

True to its nickname, the Clingon clung to her young friend's body, proving without a doubt that she was no longer a little girl. Still a bit skinny and less than abundantly endowed, yes, but definitely _not_ a child anymore.

"I know how much everyone hates these, but I wouldn't worry," Office staffer said stepping forward to smooth the fabric across Nyota's shoulders, "you're one of the few women who don't look hideous in these things. Let me just go order up the right undies and you'll be all set!"

She hurried away before either Tala or Ennie could say anything.

"This is unfair, Tally," Nyota said as soon as they were alone. The frown on her face practically shouted that she hadn't believed the compliment. "Why should I have to go around looking ridiculous as the admiral's pet cadet just because Mama is an ambassador?"

Tala's antennae twitched. "Maybe you should have asked your Vulcan that question eight months ago."

"I _did_. He had a plausible explanation that didn't include me wearing anything more formal than regular dress reds."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't have made yourself so agreeable to the admiral's guests," Tala retorted with a grin.

Ennie scowled, but didn't protest further. Even kids as stubborn as she could be knew a lost cause when confronted with one.

* * *

"Spock, son of Sarek, isn't it? Well of course it _must_ be. No others of our species would be wearing that uniform. Pity."

Uhura turned at the deep, masculine voice. Dressed in shimmery blue-green silk robes, the speaker looked Vulcan. He was definitely _speaking_ Vulcan, though not any form of the language she was accustomed to hearing. And his lilting tone was something she'd only ever heard about in rumor.

"Vasek, son of…, well son of no one, I suppose," the strange Vulcan introduced himself, "since my family no longer recognizes me as such." His eyes flickered over to Uhura before resting on Spock again. "You would know something of that, though," he added. "Of not quite being good enough for proper Vulcans?"

Uhura bristled at the suggestion that her mentor might be considered subpar and curled her hands into fists to keep from saying something unwise in response.

Vasek may have been odd for a Vulcan but he was apparently as attuned to micro expressions as any of his people. He looked at her again, his eyes running down the clinging uniform and up again 'til he met her eyes and smiled hungrily.

"Though I suppose there are advantages in choosing to live the human way," he said, addressing Spock again.

"I am Cadet Nyota Uhura," she introduced herself before Spock could, speaking toneless, accentless High Vulcan. She felt her mentor stiffen at her side. "Daughter of Ambassador M'Umbha Uhura and Doctor Benjamin Uhura. Protégée to Spock Savensu as I adjust from the ways of the planet of my birth to the ways of the planet of my ancestry."

Vasek's smile widened, but Uhura didn't see anything friendly about it.

"My apologies, Cadet Uhura," he said, switching to the more formal language, "I was unaware that you were, in a way, from my home. I hope you will grant me the pleasure of speaking with you more this evening."

"There are many friends and acquaintances of Cadet Uhura's mother in attendance," Spock said politely, stopping a nasty retort from spilling off the Uhura's tongue. "I am afraid her duties to them might preclude spending a significant amount of time with others."

When she saw he was looking down at her in concern, she shoved her composure back into place and nodded firmly.

"Spock Savensu is correct," she told Vasek. "I must greet my mother's colleagues."

.

.

"I'm still annoyed, Savensu," she said, gripping the chair's armrests. "People like him are exactly why I didn't want to go to that ridiculous gala!"

Spock forbore reminding her that the real reason she hadn't wanted to attend was to avoid spending time with her mother's friends and fellow diplomats, or that the very people she'd wished to avoid had ended up being the ones she spent the more enjoyable portion of her evening among.

"His behavior was not entirely unexpected, Cadet," he told her, instead. "Your features and figure fall within the parameters of what many humanoid species consider desirable. I doubt that was the first time you have encountered such interest."

He sensed that her mood lightened slightly, although she continued to frown.

"No, sir," she admitted. "But it was the first time anyone insinuated, within my hearing, that my appearance might be partly responsible for my accomplishments."

"As you deduced earlier, any intended offence was likely directed at me," Spock pointed out. "And yet we should not disregard an alternate possibility: Some consider winning the affections of a young woman such as you to be an accomplishment in itself. They might suggest Vasek's observation was intended as praise."

"I doubt he meant it as a compliment."

"You are likely correct." He was quiet for a moment, then, as if he considered that subject closed, he moved on to another. "I have several tasks I wish to complete before the commencement of office hours. You may remain here, if you wish, but I will not be available for further discussion."

"Thank you, sir, but no," she said, standing. "I actually agreed to proctor an extra lab this week, and it starts in" she consulted her chronometer "eight minutes. I should go make sure the last cadet-proctor leaves everything in order."

Spock inclined his head in acknowledgement, inwardly pleased that his mentoring hadn't entirely erased her Vulcan-like need for control and order in her work.

"Savensu?"

He looked up from the journal he was reading. She had paused near the door.

"Cadet?"

"_Did_ you find his implication flattering?"

He reminded himself that she was, by nature, exceedingly inquisitive, that she often sought answers to questions without considering the consequences of asking. That he had encouraged that curiosity, even taught her that it was an asset. None of those reminders made him inclined to respond in a way which might appease it.

Collecting himself with a mental shake, he considered the many times she had come to him for advice, or simply to have someone to listen while she worked things out for herself. Probably, she hadn't meant her question the way it sounded.

"Are you 'fishing for compliments,' Cadet?" he asked, relieved at finding a method for avoiding another potential misunderstanding.

If she hadn't been sure of it before, that reply, accompanied by a tiny glitter in his eye, nailed it for her. He _was_ teasing her.

"Certainly not, sir!" she told him, smiling mischievously. "You already told me you think I'm beautiful."

The way she looked at him, the lilt in her voice as she teased — both warned him his attempt at misdirection had only made the situation worse. Unbidden, a memory of how she had appeared while attempting to defend his honor the night before flashed through his mind. Forcing it away, he made a choice he knew she would not like.

.

The mask she had first encountered fell over his face. She couldn't define the change, exactly, but she knew it had happened, and an icy trickle of fear slid down her back. Slowly, deliberately, he placed the PADD on his desk and equally slowly, stood.

"Cadet," he said, his voice more toneless than anything she had heard directed at her all year, "I believe we have already agreed on the wisdom of you finding more appropriate target for your flirting practice. Perhaps this lapse is, in part, my fault. Perhaps I have been remiss in maintaining the boundary between student and mentor this year. I shall correct that."

His rebuke over, he stared at her, his eyes neither warm nor cold, until she gave a jerky and left the office.

.

Alone in his office again, Spock's ability to concentrate proved elusive. He concluded an extra-long evening meditation would be beneficial.

_And perhaps,_ he thought as managed to get back to work, _it would be prudent for me to begin dating again_.

.

.

Nine days later, Uhura contacted her sister.

"Hey," she said when Upenda's weary face appeared on the screen.

"Hey! What's up, dada?" A smile stretched her sister's lips, erasing all signs of exhaustion.

"Liberty weekend in two weeks. Can I come?"

Penda's smile fell and she leaned close. "What happened?"

Swallowing to ease the sudden tightening of her throat, Nyota bit her lip. As the silence grew, so did her sister's concern.

"Can it wait until I get there?" she managed to choke out just as Upenda started to speak again. "Please, dada?"

"Of _course _you can, Baby Star!" The worry in her voice nearly pushed Uhura over the edge.

Twelve days after _that_, she stepped off the shuttle in Vienna and right away spied two tall, concerned-looking people rushing towards her. She felt a piece of her control try to break free and had to take several deep breaths to remain steady.

She should have known that Muta would be there when she arrived. That she hadn't guessed was a testament to the fog she'd been living in for the past couple of weeks. Before she said a word, her brother's arms were holding her up, and the tears she'd been holding back for ages flooded her cheeks.

* * *

Reference: The second verse and chorus from _Public Display of Affection_, by Morcheeba.

* * *

**A/N:** My apologies for the late update. I was so consumed with other stories, I forgot I hadn't posted this chapter. Mea culpa.  
Lyrics are now available with the livejournal versions only.

Disclaimer: I don't own any Star Trek characters or concepts or any material produced by Morcheeba. I do not profit from writing.


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